The Picture
by M.M Darling
Summary: When photographic proof of Eleanor's feelings for Jasper emerges, everyone - from Liam all the way down to Rachel - realizes that the two belong together. But is it enough to bring together one very stubborn princess and her very stoic bodyguard? Update: the rating on the epilogue is more T-like; everything else is K!
1. Chapter 1

Author's note 1: I don't own anything; all characters are the rightful property of one Mark Schwann.

Author's note 2: I rarely post fanfic, but this idea crawled into my head and I couldn't get it out. It was inspired by the bottom right frame of this gifset [ post/142831314278]; after seeing it over and over and over, I started thinking, "What if a photographer captured that look on Eleanor's face? And what if everyone saw the picture in the days following the King's Cup and became convinced that Eleanor and Jasper should be together?" So this fic is an experiment in fleshing out that idea. Warning: after chapter 1, there's not much Jaspenor interaction until the end. But I'll try to post chapters two at a time so that you can get to the end faster!

ch 1: had he looked

 _during / day of_

Jasper didn't even need to turn around to see that Eleanor was having an increasingly hard time fighting the crowd. He could feel her fall behind him amid the desperation of the paps; with each flash of a camera, he could sense her panic growing.

Though he eventually had to twist around to shove yet another onlooker away from her, he didn't actually make eye contact; he was more focused on getting that person away than on the fear written across her features. In one swift motion, he pushed the onlooker aside, reached his right arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him — all without breaking stride.

He forged forward, keeping his focus straight ahead. Jasper had one singular goal: get her into the car unharmed. He shoved and elbowed his way through the scrum, not caring who he hit or whose live-shot he ruined.

Had Jasper turned around — had he looked — he would have seen the expression on Eleanor's face. He would have literally watched the realization dawn in her eyes; he would have seen an emotion in her eyes that could only be described as adoring.

But Jasper didn't turn around. His eyes were still trained forward when they reached the SUV; he was still in bodyguard mode as he pulled Eleanor out from behind him and propelled the two of them into the back seat as he slammed the car door shut with his free hand.

Because of the velocity of their entrance into the SUV, Jasper was practically sitting on top of Eleanor as the car zoomed away. His thigh was pressed against hers, and his right arm was wrapped around her shoulders — the result of him having used it to brace his entry into the vehicle. They unwittingly remained this way for a good ten minutes; both were too busy catching their breaths and silently processing the day's events to even notice that they were basically cradled in each other's arms.

When the stadium turned into a small speck in the rear view mirror and the outside scenery shifted from center-city row homes to the beginnings of the palace lawns, Jasper broke out of his trance and slid to the far side of the backseat, several feet away from Eleanor. Here, too, he moved without making eye contact with the princess. Had he looked, he would have seen confusion and hurt flash across her face.

But Jasper didn't look. Instead, he stared determinedly at the car's driver, locking his jaw and willing the guy to go faster. With Ted exposed and as good as dead, Jasper's mission was over. Which meant that he had to leave. It's what she wanted, after all. And if he had to leave, he wanted to do it as fast as possible. No sense in making the painful even more impossible.

It was only after getting through the back entrance of the palace and clearing her room for entry did he sneak a look at her. But this time, she wasn't looking at him. Exhaustion had overcome her and she was — wordlessly — kicking off her boots and crawling into bed.

Jasper opened his mouth, ready to beg for her forgiveness one last time; ready to ask for one last chance. But he quickly closed it. He had failed her on so many other occasions that the least he could do was abide by her wishes and leave.

He turned on his heels, whispering, "goodbye, princess," as he passed through her double doors one last time.

Had he turned back around — had he looked — he would have seen Eleanor peeking out from under her duvet, her eyes filled with tears.

 _meanwhile, in D-Throned's windowless office in Central London:_

D-Throned senior editor Rod Sterling was on bloody number 150 of the 378 photographs he'd bought from the pap. Because he hadn't known exactly what he was looking for — ideally a shot of the two-timing security head getting trampled to death, but really anything salacious would do — he'd paid the bloke five thousand pounds for the whole lot of what he snapped at the King's Cup. But as he clicked past #151 and #152, Sterling was regretting not being more selective in his ask. After all, the ones in this current batch were just of Princess Eleanor exiting the stadium, nowhere near the murderous Ted Pryce.

Sterling's eyes had started to glaze over as he clicked into the 160s, but there was something in photograph #164 that made him double back and take a closer look.

It was yet another one of the princess leaving, but this one was different. In this one, she was looking at the guy leading her out of the melee — that handsome bodyguard she'd had on and off for awhile now. But she wasn't looking at him like he was just any random bodyguard. She was looking at him like he had gotten the sun to shine just for her. Hell, she was looking at him like he was her sun.

"Jackpot," Sterling whispered. The shot wouldn't go on the homepage the next day or anything, but he could throw it in a slideshow to gin up gossip about what exactly was between Eleanor and her hottie protector, and then use it in a series of speculative "follow-up" stories.

A look like that could give D-Throned a good two weeks of content — easy.


	2. Ch 2

ch. 2: rachel — and therefore helena — sees it

 _the next day_

Rachel was still so thrilled by the previous day's victory for "Team Helena" that she literally whistled while she worked.

And the task at hand was not exactly whistling-inspiring stuff.

"Rachel, I need you to go through every single photo of the Cup that D-Throned has posted and to monitor every new photo they post throughout the week," Helena had ordered.

"Yes, your majesty," Rachel had responded. "But if I may ask: what am I looking for, exactly?"

"Oh you know, the usual. Anything that will hurt us. Anything that will damage reputations," Helena responded, almost sounding bored. "But also, if you see any photo depicting someone attempting to help Pryce, you are to alert me immediately."

Rachel wanted to ask if this meant the palace — and its occupants — still faced immediate danger, but that would have been one question too many. So she yes-your-majesty'd and high-tailed it back to her office, where she was clicking through a D-Throned photo slideshow that was literally 378 bloody photographs long.

But bigger picture: she and Helena had gained the upper hand on Cyrus; the sulking monarch would soon be forced to prepare his abdication speech, just as soon as the actual paternity test results came through. So, Rachel whistled while she worked.

The photos were innocent enough, and certainly none came close to revealing whether or not Ted had an accomplice. Most of them just depicted Princess Eleanor's exit from the stadium, one frame at a time.

"Boring, boring, more boring," Rachel sang to herself as she clicked through #158, 159, 160. She was debating the merits of skipping ahead to the 200s when photo #164 appeared on the screen and made her fingers come to a complete halt.

It was yet another photo of Eleanor being escorted out of the stadium, but this one was different. In this one, Eleanor wore an expression that Rachel had never before seen on the princess' face: adoration. Rachel clicked back to #163 to see what had led to Eleanor's look of admiration; it was virtually the same, though instead of admiration what Rachel saw was comprehension. It was zoomed out a bit more than #164 so Rachel could see that Jasper had his arm around Eleanor's waist. If there was a thought bubble over Eleanor's head, it might have read, "oh my god. You're really here for me."

In both photos, the bodyguard was completely oblivious to the love beams Eleanor was sending his way.

Rachel flipped back and forth between the two for a bit, and then, after re-landing on #164, leaned back in her chair, deep in thought. The release of the newest paternity test would throw the palace into a bit of upheaval, to say nothing of the press. An abdication of a hated monarch followed by the coronation of his 22-year-old nephew would send the media into a tizzy.

But a royal love story? Between the princess and the help? Now that could distract them.

Her wheels turning, Rachel picked up her phone and began to dial Rod Sterling's direct line. Surely D-Throned could do her this favor.

She was halfway through the 11-digit number when Helena strode into the room.

"Rachel, while you're at it, I need —"

The queen didn't finish her sentence; like Rachel and Rod Sterling, King's Cup photo #164 — in all its fullscreen glory — had caught her attention and stunned her into silence. There was no denying it. Eleanor indeed felt "quite deeply" for her bodyguard.

Paired with Jasper's resignation letter, it also helped explain why the princess hadn't left her room since returning from the stadium the prior day, Helena mused.

Rachel lowered the phone, ready to explain her plan. But the queen needed a moment to process what was on the giant computer screen in front of her.

"Rachel, do you see what I see?"

"That depends, your majesty," Rachel replied carefully. "What is it that you see?"

"I see my daughter looking like she's head over heels in love. With her bodyguard!"

"And that… angers you, m'am?" Rachel asked. Helena's tone had managed to come off as both incredulous and indignant.

"No! On the contrary, it proves that I was right."

Rachel wasn't sure what to do with that, so she decided to use that moment to explain her plan to the queen.

"A love story," Helena stated when Rachel was finished. "You want to sell my daughter's feelings to the papers so they ignore the fact that Cyrus is not the rightful king?"

"I mean no disrespect, your majesty," Rachel replied, scrambling to save face.

"No, no, it's good," Helena said slowly, her wheels turning. This photo, she realized, could do more than distract the press. It could, perhaps, be used to force Jasper and Eleanor out of their stalemate. "In fact, it's perfect."

"I'm glad you think so, ma'am."

"You know what to do?"

"Of course, your majesty."

"Good. You do that while I figure out where in the world Jasper Frost has gotten himself off to."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you so much for all the kind reviews! I rarely venture into fiction so you've all made my weekend :-) The next few entries are light on Jaspenor so I'll try to post them close together!

A/N 2: Not sure how often I need to post disclaimers, but characters are not mine. Property of E! and the fabulous Mark Schwann.

ch. 3: james sees it

 _later that day (aka, still one day post-King's Cup)_

"With all due respect, your majesty," James said carefully, "no."

"What do you mean, no?" Helena snapped. Though she had phrased her request as a question, she hadn't actually been asking.

"The princess asked Mr. Frost to leave," James explained. "Lord knows the boy didn't want to leave, but he's so in love with her that he will do anything to make her happy. He respected her wishes, and so must we."

He paused, then added for emphasis, "We can't bring him back."

"Happy, you say? Does that look like a happy girl?" Helena replied, gesturing to one of the ten TV screens in the security headquarters. The one closest to the queen's finger depicted the kitchen, where a forlorn Eleanor was methodically stabbing a piece of pie with her fork.

"Lemon meringue is an infinitely better substance to ingest than MDMA, your majesty," James replied.

"Mr. Hill," Helena replied, her eyes narrowing and her tone warning.

James merely shrugged in response; he knew that he had a point and he knew that Helena knew it, too. And so, he pressed on.

"I don't argue that Princess Eleanor has seen happier days. But, with respect, you have made decisions for her her entire life," he said. "Let's allow her to make this one for herself."

Helena shook her head and marched to the computer. She hadn't been planning to show him, but he needed to see the evidence. She pulled up D-Throned's site and started clicking through the King's Cup slideshow.

Eventually, she landed on photo #164.

"There. Look at that. Look at the expression on her face," she said to James. "And compare it to the expression currently on her face," Helena added.

James did as he was told. He looked from the computer screen to the TV screen, where Eleanor was still playing with her pie, then back at the computer. He zoomed the photo in and out, and as Rachel did, clicked back and forth between #163 and #164.

"Yes, I do believe I detect a difference," he replied.

Helena arched her eyebrow. Under different circumstances, James may have amused her. But with her daughter about to make the same mistake she had so many years ago — throwing away someone she loved, for what? for pride? — Helena was not in much of a mood for his wry sense of humor.

"I know you know that my daughter is stubborn. This picture is proof that when it comes to Jasper Frost, she's letting her pride get in the way of her happiness."

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it, m'am?" James said as he reached down to open the filing cabinet sitting under the TVs. After rifling around for a minute, he straightened back up, holding a manilla folder with the words "Jasper Frost" written in the corner.

"He left just last night. Didn't say where he was going, but if prior history is any indication, he hasn't gone far. His most recent number is in here," James said, handing the file to Helena.

Helena paused. She knew that her appeals alone couldn't be the reason Jasper returned; Eleanor's feelings about their history just about guaranteed that.

"Mr. Hill, there's a chance that Jasper will find my argument, ah, less than convincing," Helena said.

James studied the queen and decided that he didn't want to know why that was the case. Instead, he asked, "so where does that leave us?"

"I think we both call. Put the phone on speaker or something," Helena said, waving her hand dismissively. "You tell him I have a message for him, and then I'll argue my case."

"And if it starts to go sideways, I…?"

"You're good on your feet. Figure it out."

"Right. That's quite the plan," James muttered, pulling out his mobile. It took seven rings for Jasper to pick up.

"Frost," came Jasper's clipped greeting.

"Frost, I have her majesty the queen on the line," James said. "She has a message for you."

"Hill, I quit. I told you this yesterday, there's nothing that anyone — "

"Hear her out," James said. Jasper didn't reply. James imagined that Jasper was clenching his jaw, torn between curiosity as to what the queen had to tell him and his desire to hang up the phone. It took 43 seconds (James counted) for curiosity to win.

"Fine."

Helena leaned toward the phone, took a deep breath, and began her appeal: "Mr. Frost, I realize that you have decided to leave and that you don't possibly owe us a single extra minute of your time, but we never properly thanked you for what you did. We would love it if you could come by so we can officially thank you for getting to the bottom of Simon's murder."

"Who is 'we?'" Jasper asked.

"Well, me and James, and," Helena paused. James nodded almost imperceptibly, encouraging her to continue. "Certainly Eleanor will want to properly thank you as well."

"There you're wrong, your majesty. She wants nothing to do with me. She hates me!" Jasper said, his voice rising as he spoke.

"Jasper, I really don't think —"

"You think but you don't know!" he said, sounding more emotional than either Helena or James had heard before. "She asked me to leave and never come back. I left, and I'm never coming back. I owe her that much."

"Jasper, you don't understand, she lo —"

"Don't you dare use that word," he said, not caring that he was cutting off the sitting queen consort of England. "And don't call me again."

He hung up before Helena could continue her protest.

"That went well," James observed. Helena gave him a withering look.

"We'll just have to try a different approach," she said.

"And what approach is that, your majesty?"

"We make Eleanor see the light." Helena paused for effect. "Or, at the very least, we make her see that photograph."

James studied Helena. He had known that she was just as stubborn as her daughter — or was it that Eleanor was just as stubborn as her mother? regardless — but knowing it and experiencing it firsthand are two very different things. He also knew that with Pryce in a medically-induced coma and an entire palace security team to run, he had no time to devote to Eleanor's love life. But there was one person who had both time and ability to get through to the princess.

"Very well. But if I may make one suggestion," James said. "WE don't do anything. We get Liam to do it for us."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Trying this again, folks. So sorry about the formatting issues! Hopefully this one shows up as words and not code!

ch. 4: liam sees it

 _one week later (aka, eight days post-King's Cup)_

Liam paced the length of his room. He was livid.

He had spent much of the prior week in New York at James Hill's request, first trying to find Ophelia and then trying to convince her to come to England — all without telling her why.

It had not gone well.

Liam shook his head, as if the motion would erase the events of the past six days from his mind. Ophelia's unwillingness to come without a reason, Nick nearly strangling him, the look on her face when she, at last, realized that Liam wouldn't have been begging her to get on that plane if it weren't important — he wanted it all out of his head. He'd process it another day.

No, what had him mad was the mess of information he had been forced to absorb in the 16 hours since his plane had touched down in England: the fact that his mother had lied about the twins' first paternity test; that she had broken into his father's crypt in order to do a _second_ paternity test — "this one for real this time, I promise;" that Jasper was gone and not answering his phone; that Eleanor nearly hit him with a six-inch stiletto when he dared to suggest _she_ contact Jasper; and that, on top of all of this, his mother _still_ expected him to do her bidding.

"Please, it's for your sister," she had said. That she had sounded legitimately desperate was the only reason Liam was even considering doing her a favor after the mess she had caused with the paternity tests.

Liam came to a stop in front of his desk. Thinking back to the look on Eleanor's face when she had hurled the Jimmy Choo at his head — that patented mix of hurt and pain — his curiosity got the better of him. He sighed dramatically, then opened the note his mother had slipped him at breakfast.

"D-Throned homepage," it read in her neat cursive. "You'll know what to do."

"Getting a little too addicted to spywork and subterfuge, aren't you, mum?" Liam muttered as he followed her instructions and typed in D-Throned's web address.

He had to scroll down a bit to see what Helena was talking about, but when he hit the bottom half of the page, there was no doubting what she had been referring to.

There, in big block letters, read a less-than-subtle headline: "The Princess And The Bodyguard: A Fling Gone Wrong Or Love Story For The Ages?"

Under the headline was the photo that had been #164 in the 378-picture slideshow, the one of a determined Jasper ushering a rather adoring Eleanor out of the stadium.

Liam smirked. Of course Jasper had been her knight-in-shining-armor that day and of course Eleanor loved him. He had seen it in her eyes the night she told him of Jasper's plan to rob the family. He just never expected there to be such blatant proof of her feelings.

He scanned the article that accompanied the photo and headline. Though it was D-Throned's typical mix of speculation and anonymous sources, some of the details — like Eleanor's self-imposed silence since the King's Cup, or Jasper's leaving the palace mere hours after the royal family had returned from the chaos at the stadium — reeked of Rachel's involvement.

Liam's first impulse was to read Rachel the riot act (isn't it her job to quash drivel like this?) but then he remembered Eleanor and Helena's press battle from the prior year. Both had used the papers to make a point with the other. This felt remarkably similar.

Liam's second impulse was to see if Jasper had read it. The guy had gone dark for a reason, but surely if he knew Eleanor was miserable, he'd resurface. Liam texted him the link, along with a simple message: "Hey, you seen this?"

He knew better than to wait for a response, so he moved on to door number three: talk to Eleanor.

He cautiously made his way to his sister's room. Liam had no plan. Just one very telling photograph and the knowledge that Eleanor was being entirely too stubborn for her own good.

"Len?" he said as he rapped on her door with his knuckles. "Len, it's me. Let me in."

He heard her groan but did not hear her say no, so he let himself in.

Her room was in its usual state of semi-disarray, but there were neither cocaine lines nor bongs in sight so Liam took that as a good sign.

"If this is about paternity test part deux," Eleanor said, "I'm reallllly not in the mood to talk about it."

"And nor am I. I actually wanted to see if," Liam started, then faltered when he saw her face. She looked so dejected. A quick pop to D-Throned's website wasn't going to fix this.

"Well I was going to see if you wanted to grab a drink," he bluffed, "but as it seems you're sober I have something better in mind."

Eleanor raised her eyebrow expectantly. She'd holed herself up in her room for the past week, refusing to so much as talk to anyone much less go out with them. She had been vacillating between feeling emotionally drained, sad, and angry with herself, and she couldn't imagine anything Liam suggested could break the cycle of self-loathing.

"I'm taking you to see Charlie Jones," he said.

"Liam," she said, starting to protest. The last time she had been on the horse, her mother had tried to convince her she should be with Jasper. Eleanor was NOT interested in reviving that conversation.

"Len, please?" Liam said, switching gears and sounding plaintive. "I've had a shit week and I could really use an hour away from everything."

Eleanor studied her twin. He did look exhausted, and she had heard him explode at their mother over the paternity tests (she had been too angry to speak, so she had huffed out of the room without uttering one word). She wasn't in a brilliant mood herself, but she supposed she could do him this one favor.

"Fiiiiine."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Sorry for the delay! I intended to post this sooner but work/life interfered. At any rate, here we go... Eleanor finally sees it!

ch. 5: eleanor sees it

 _that late afternoon_

As Charlie Jones pranced over the palace fields, Eleanor tilted her head back, soaking in the sun and letting the wind comb through her hair. She had to admit: this was the best she had felt all week.

The best she had felt, in fact, since Jasper had ushered her out of the stadium, with his muscular arm wrapped around her waist and pressing her into his solid chest.

She leaned forward on the horse, willing him to go faster, as if his speed would give her mind the power to forget one Jasper Frost.

Liam pulled up beside her, and motioned to the trees on the far edge of the palace grounds.

"Race you there?" he called.

"It's on!" she replied, kicking Charlie into a gallop.

The twins raced across the grass at almost simultaneous speeds. Liam was the more seasoned rider, what with his polo-playing and all, but Charlie and Eleanor had a bond that stretched back nearly a dozen years. It was almost as if the thoroughbred could feel her competitiveness and sense her need for just one win.

With 100 yards to go, Eleanor pulled ahead— and managed to hold her lead all the way to the shade of the trees.

"Yesss!" she whooped, jumping off the horse. She was beaming. "I needed that."

"Needed to beat your older brother?" Liam replied as he unstrapped his riding helmet. "You wound me."

"Oh hush," she said. "Four minutes of extra age hardly makes you a sage."

"But apparently your relative youth has made you a poet, and you didn't even kno—"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence," Eleanor shot back. Her tone was dangerous, but her eyes were still sparkling from the horse ride. Liam decided to test the limits of his sister's newfound good mood. He plopped down onto the grass and motioned for Eleanor to join him.

"I wanna show you something," he said.

"Liam, you know I hate nature," she said as she began to brush Charlie Jones's mane. "Whatever you see in the grass will be lost on me."

"No, it's not nature-related," he insisted, reaching into his pocket for his phone. He glanced at the homescreen to confirm that Jasper still hadn't responded — which, of course, he hadn't. "It's a picture."

"Ugh, no more photos," Eleanor said, continuing to brush Charlie. "The last time you showed me a picture we accused our mother of murder and found out that the real murderer was our grandmother. I'm not terribly interested in finding out yet another one of our precious relatives should spend the rest of their life in orange."

"It's not like that, Len, I promise," Liam said earnestly. Almost too earnestly. "It's a fun picture," he said, trying to sound casual.

Eleanor sighed dramatically and joined Liam on the grass. He passed her his phone; the photo of her and Jasper beamed up at them in perfect clarity.

Eleanor's eyes narrowed almost immediately. "What is this?" she asked, her tone hardening.

"I could ask you the same thing," Liam laughed.

"It's a picture of Jasper escorting me out of the stadium after Ted got trampled," Eleanor replied matter-of-factly.

"Ah, yes, my mistake. This is a completely straightforward picture of my bodyguard escorting my sister out of the stadium. Nothing to see here!"

Eleanor turned her head away from Liam and resolutely stared into the distance. She had barely looked at the photo for 10 seconds but it was too late; the memories were already rushing back. The fear she had felt in the crowd as they pressed in on her; Jasper's arm, reaching out to her like an anchor in a storm; the whiff of his cologne she couldn't help but take as he pulled her through the melee; the faraway look in his eyes in the SUV ride back to the palace; the ease with which he deposited her into her room and left her world for good. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing her mind to think of anything else.

"Lenny," Liam said softly, nudging her with his elbow. "It's okay to admit it."

"Admit what?" she snapped, whipping her head back around and pointing at the picture. "Admit that Jasper kept me safe that day? Admit that I was wrong to ask him to leave?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of admitting you care about him."

"You think I care about the guy who blackmailed me, planned to rob me and slept with our mother?"

"You mean the guy who didn't leave your side even when he wasn't being paid to protect you? The guy who stopped at nothing to uncover our father's murderer and the guy who's put YOUR safety and wellbeing above all else?" Liam shot back. "Yes, him."

Eleanor huffed. "Well, it doesn't matter which version of Jasper Frost we're discussing because he's gone. I asked him to leave, and he left," she said.

"Because you asked," Liam stated.

"Haven't we established that? Yes, Liam, Jasper left because I asked him to."

"Then don't you think he'd come back if you asked?"

"What possibly gives you the idea that I would ask Jasper to come back?"

"Well for one, you haven't actually denied that you care about him. For another," Liam said slowly, "the existence of this damn picture."

Eleanor gaped at her brother. "After everything he's done and everything I've said, and you base your opinions on a photograph?"

"Well you do know what they say about pictures," Liam said. "And this one doesn't even need 1,000 words to speak volumes."

Eleanor again stared at the photo. It almost pained her to look at Jasper's image — the determination on his face was just too much for her to take. That determination had been entirely in service of her and her safety and she had banished it — him — from her life. She shifted her gaze to her own face, and she couldn't deny what was there: tenderness. Maybe even love. For the third time that afternoon, Eleanor thought back to how safe she had felt with Jasper. How, despite everything he had done to her, he was the one person who kept coming back. Who never left her alone. Until, of course, she had begged him to do just that.

She didn't realize she was crying until she felt Liam pull her into a hug. "It's okay to care about him, you know," he whispered.

"Liam, it's too late. I told him to leave and never come back. It's my mistake to live with."

"The only mistake I see," Liam said, "is being too stubborn to tell him you were wrong."

"But what if that's not enough?" Eleanor cried. "What if he's already moved on?"

"In one week? I highly doubt that," Liam said. "But really, there's only one way to find out."

Eleanor lifted her head to find her brother pointing to an SUV parked on the road opposite the tree clearing. Before the twins had left the palace to get their horses, Liam had called James, telling him to have a car ready in case Eleanor wanted to take a drive after their outing. The subtext of the prince's command was not lost on the new head of security, who had subsequently supplied the royal driver with the address of a small flat in Shoreditch.

"Go to him," Liam said. Eleanor opened her mouth to protest (it was too soon, he might not be home, what could she possibly say to him? And on and on her mind churned), but Liam hushed her before she could get a word out.

"Just go to him. You'll know what to do once you're there."

Eleanor closed her mouth and dug her heels in the ground. Part of her — the stubborn part — didn't want to give Liam this win, and nor did she want to relent to Jasper so quickly. But a bigger part — the part that had left her sulking in the palace for the last week, the same part that left her aching for his touch before bed every bloody night he didn't fall into bed with her — just wanted to see Jasper again. To maybe try to make things right.

And so, for the second time that day, Eleanor found herself agreeing to her brother's plan.

"Fiiiiine," she said, pulling herself up and marching to the SUV.

"Ready or not," she muttered under her breath, not sure if she was talking to herself or Jasper, "here I come."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Ahh you guys are amazing with your faves, follows and reviews! I'm so glad you've been enjoying this - I've had fun writing it. I'm also very sorry for the delay in posting. I wanted to get this up sooner, but I (a.) kept fiddling with it and (b.) didn't want to post until I could tell you for sure: I'm working on an epilogue! So if the Jaspenor in this chapter isn't enough for you, there will be more! That entry will definitely take a few more days to polish, but please enjoy this one in the meantime :-)

A/N 2: Still don't own anything, though wouldn't mind borrowing Tom Austen for a hot second... yowza.

* * *

ch. 6: jasper sees it

 _that evening_

Eleanor was standing on Pitfield street in Shoreditch, staring up at a brick apartment building — _his_ brick apartment building, she thought —and feeling like she was about to throw up.

She had tried three separate times to trick Liam's driver into turn back to the palace, but alas: he had been instructed to listen to the prince and prince only so her thinly-veiled pleas were for naught.

She was weighing the merits of just making a run for it when a voice cut through her consciousness.

"Eleanor? What are you doing here?"

She looked up, and it was as if Jasper had materialized out of nowhere. He was standing ten feet in front of her, his expression as inscrutable as ever.

"I, uh, well, I —" She could have kicked herself. She was stammering. She never stammers.

"Wait, not here," Jasper said. "You need to get inside before someone sees you."

"Well YOU saw me so it would appear that I haven't exactly been invisible for the past 15 minutes, have I?" she replied, attempting to summon her usual feisty self. Jasper rolled his eyes, grabbed her above her elbow and pulled her into his lobby. She let him lead her up two flights of stairs — old habits die hard, she thought ruefully — and into his flat.

Only after he locked all three deadbolts on his door, shut the windows and drew all the curtains did Eleanor take a good look at him. If she was being perfectly honest, Jasper Frost seen better days: his t-shirt was wrinkled, his face was scruffy and his eyes were lined with circles. Dishes were piled in his sink, and she counted at least ten beer cans strewn throughout his living room and kitchen tables and floors, to say nothing of the trash cans themselves.

"I see you've given yourself a break from everything," she said, drawing out 'everything' while waving at her surroundings.

"Why are you here?" Jasper asked, ignoring her comment about his flat's appearance.

"I — " she paused again. If there was one thing Eleanor hated more than feeling vulnerable, it was expressing said vulnerability. But since she was the one who banished Jasper, she wasn't in a position to make him do the begging. "I wanted to see you," she finished.

Jasper stared at her for a good 30 seconds, trying to decipher what she meant. Correction: he stood there for 30 seconds trying to get the beating of his heart under control, because what he hoped she meant couldn't possibly be what she actually meant.

"Why?" he finally asked.

"Because… you're not going to make this easy on me, are you?" she said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Make what easy, Eleanor? You came here on your own. After telling me to go away because you couldn't see me," he said. "I didn't ask you to come."

"Well if you don't want me here I guess I'll be going," Eleanor said haughtily, dusting non-existent lint off her leather jacket and moving back towards Jasper's entryway.

"Don't deflect. That's not what I meant and you know it," Jasper said, resisting the urge to rub his temples or express any outward sign of exasperation. She was infuriating.

Eleanor sighed and tried to rack her brain for the right words. Saying 'I miss you' felt like too much too soon; saying 'I was wrong' would've likewise been a bridge too far. Even though she _did_ miss him, and she _had_ been wrong. It was then that she remembered what Liam had said just a few hours before: _You do know what they say about pictures. And this one doesn't even need 1,000 words to speak volumes_.

"I wanted to show you something," Eleanor said, pulling out her phone and queuing up the photo. Eleanor silently passed Jasper the phone, hoping to whatever higher power she was supposed to believe in that he got the message.

Jasper looked down at what Eleanor had handed him. "The Princess And The Bodyguard," read the D-Throned headline. "A Fling Gone Wrong Or Love Story For The Ages?" His heart sank.

"I didn't talk to the press, if that's what you're concerned about," he said coldly, moving to return her phone.

"No, no, that's not it!" she yelped, resisting the urge to slap him. He was infuriating. "Keep going."

Reluctantly, he did as he was told; eventually, his fingers stilled over the photograph. He pinched the screen, zooming in on his and Eleanor's faces. He had to give the pap credit: it was a damn good shot. He looked damn heroic, and Eleanor looked — wait, what is that expression? She looked soft, tender even. If he didn't know any better, he would have said that she was looking at him lovingly. But that couldn't be the case, he thought. She wanted him out of her life, and she had told him so just 12 hours before this was taken.

Jasper shifted his gaze to the real-life Eleanor, the one standing awkwardly in his living room. She was looking at him expectantly, like she was waiting for him to have some big revelation.

"I'm afraid I don't quite follow," Jasper said carefully. He felt like he was walking a tightrope: if he dismissed the emotion in the picture, he might anger Eleanor and inadvertently send her away for good. But if he dared to listen to the hope blooming in his chest — the little voice that was telling him, "it means she cares about you, you idiot" — and turned out to be wrong, well, his heart might not ever recover.

"What do you mean, you don't follow?" Eleanor was incredulous. Were she and Liam wrong? Was there nothing to be seen in the picture? "What about that photo is not clear?"

"The actions are quite clear. I'm escorting you out of the stadium," Jasper said.

"No shit, bodyguard," Eleanor growled, grabbing her phone out of his hands and starting to turn towards his door. "You know what? Forget it. This was a bad idea."

But of course, Jasper was too quick for her. He caught her wrist, spun her back around and pulled her in towards him. He expected her to fight back, but when he looked down at her, what he saw in her eyes was heartbreak.

Jasper swallowed thickly. The sadness in her eyes made it even more plausible that the Eleanor in the photo was gazing at him with adoration, and that the Eleanor in front of him was trying to send a message by making him see it. He cleared his throat.

"There does seem to be more to it than that, princess," he said. "You seem to be… grateful."

Eleanor dropped her head in defeat, muttering something that Jasper didn't quite catch. He took his left hand — his right was still holding her wrist — and brushed her cheek, forcing her to make eye contact. "Say it again," he commanded, not moving his hand from her face.

"I seem to be a fair bit more than grateful," she said, arching her eyebrow at him. Her skin burned under his fingers, and she could have cursed her body for betraying her so quickly. All it took was one stroke of her cheek and she already wanted more. A _lot_ more.

The hope that had been budding in Jasper's chest grew ever stronger as he watched Eleanor's pupils dilate. He desperately wanted to kiss her, but he still hadn't heard what he needed to hear from her.

"Okay. You look like you feel safe. You look," he said, unsure of whether or not to go on. He decided he had nothing to lose. He took a deep breath. "You look like you might even have feelings for me."

Eleanor nodded, her eyes dropping to his lips. In part because she wanted to kiss him, and in part because she was too afraid to make eye contact and see nothing but coldness and rejection in return for her (non-verbal) confession.

"You have feelings for me?" Jasper repeated.

Eleanor nodded again, resolutely focused on Jasper's mouth.

"Say yes," he said, cupping her chin and tilting her head up at him so they could lock eyes.

"Yes," she whispered.

That one word was all it took to break the few remaining shreds of Jasper's self control. He dove his head down, meeting Eleanor's lips in a bruising kiss. She responded immediately, arching into him and gripping his waist like she never wanted to let go. As Eleanor deepened the kiss, Jasper fisted one hand in her hair and slid the other hand under her shirt, caressing her stomach. She moaned into his mouth, and Jasper started to undo the zipper of her jeans. It was at this moment that Eleanor pulled away, breaking the kiss and leaving both of them gasping for breath.

"What the hell, Eleanor?"

This time, it Eleanor who had realized she hadn't heard what she needed to hear. Mainly because she hadn't said what needed to be said.

"You realize I have trust issues, yes?"

Jasper studied her. He could tell she wasn't just parroting a line she had used on him before. She was, in her own Eleanor way, trying to convey to him just how significant it was that she was here, that she had sought him out. But she was also trying to ask him — tell him, really — that this time, things between them would be different. Better.

"I will never forget it," he replied solemnly, stepping back towards her. "For as long as I live."

"Good," she said, locking her hands with his. Their relationship had just shifted into something terrifyingly real, but for once, Eleanor wasn't terrified. She felt — for the first time since the King's Cup — safe.

"Now take me to bed, bodyguard," she said saucily. "I need to know that you haven't forgotten how to protect my body."

 _fin (for now)_


	7. Epilogue

A/N: Ack! It took me way longer to get this done, thanks in part to work, life, and me writing myself into some holes. But I finally got it to the point that it's shareable - thanks in large part to a very valuable second set of eyes. My goal with this was twofold: have some Jaspenor cuteness, but also set our dynamic duo up for the point at which the new season seems to be picking up. I hope it's to your satisfaction! I want to thank everyone who's read this, reviewed this, "liked" this or followed this - your kind feedback has meant so much to me, and I so appreciate each and every one of you! It's been really fun to write this, and I'm so glad people found it fun to read, as well. Okay, enough of me blabbing... onward to our epilogue!

A/N 2: Stilllll own nothing. Stillllll would happily take an hour with Tom Austen...

* * *

 _one week later (aka, about two weeks post-King's Cup)_

It was 5:00 am, and Jasper wanted nothing more than to chuck the blaring alarm clock clear across London and into the Thames. He was very warm and very comfortable — largely due to the fact that he was spooning a very naked Eleanor Henstridge.

"Turnniiofff," Eleanor mumbled, pulling him even closer to her body. She never had been much of a morning person, but the two of them had been up till 2am "reconnecting" every night for the past week, and the physical exertion was beginning to take a serious toll.

"Princess, you know I can't," Jasper said as he reached out his arm to silence the noisemaker. "You have to get back to the palace before anyone realizes you're gone."

"The drivers realize I'm gone," Eleanor replied, burying her face into his pillow.

"And they're kindly keeping their mouths shut because you threatened them with dismemberment," Jasper said, kissing her shoulder blade. Eleanor twitched; even half asleep she could not deny the effect he had on her body. Jasper noticed it, too, and decided that if she was going to be this impossible to rouse from bed, the least he could do was make the process fun. He kissed his way from her shoulder blade to her spine, and then up her spine to the base of her neck. As he began to suck on her neck, he trailed a finger against her side, all the way down to her thigh.

"Jaspurrrrr," she moaned, but didn't finish the thought because Jasper chose that moment to start drawing circles on her thighs and if her eyes had been open they would have rolled to the back of her head.

Jasper propped himself up with his free hand and peered down at her. "Yes, princess?" he asked with all the innocence he could muster as he moved his hand dangerously close to where she wanted it. "You were saying?"

At this, Eleanor's eyes finally shot open. "You know damn well what I was saying," she said.

"Oh good, you're awake," Jasper said, removing his hand from her body and starting to move himself off the bed. "Let's get you off to the palace."

Eleanor narrowed her eyes. There was no way she was letting him win this one. "Let's try that again, minus those last three words."

Jasper quirked his eyebrow at her. He knew she'd want to kill him later for not getting her back to the palace before the staff and James Hill started their days, but as he looked at her swollen lips and mussed up hair — remnants from their escapades earlier that evening — he decided that imminent pleasure was well worth slightly-less-imminent scorn.

"Who am I to deny a princess' command?" he replied, and began kissing his way down her body.

* * *

"Jasper, wake the hell up!"

Jasper jolted upright. He was normally a light sleeper, but it took him a second to shake off the slumber and figure out what had happened: after their 5am cavorting, he and Eleanor had fallen back asleep. It was now 10am, and she was pissed.

"I needed to be back in the palace four and a half bloody hours ago," Eleanor seethed as she jump-pulled her leather pants back onto her body.

"I don't seem to recall you complaining about your tardiness four and a half bloody hours ago," Jasper replied, hopping out of bed and raking his eyes up and down her now-clothed figure. "In fact, if memory serves, it was all, 'Jaspurrrrr, pleaaaase,'" he mimicked with a wicked grin.

"Watch it, bodyguard," Eleanor said as she made her way into the living room and started rifling through couch cushions and desk drawers, intently looking for his car keys. "You're going to have a hell of a time getting re-hired as my detail with that attitude."

Jasper leaned against his doorframe with crossed arms and smirked. Eleanor was so concentrated on her quest to find his keys that he knew she had no idea what she just said.

"Rehired as your detail, huh?" he asked. "Who says I WANT to be rehired?"

This got Eleanor's attention. For all the "reconnecting" they'd done over the past week, they actually hadn't talked much beyond that first night. She had been about to tell Jasper not to be silly, of course he wanted to come back, but she realized: other than "fall into bed together every night," she had no idea what Jasper wanted.

"I didn't mean to imply anything," Eleanor said quickly, standing up from behind the couch. "In any event, not a conversation for now. We should get me back to the palace so I can deal with the vultures who will most certainly have noticed by now that I'm gone."

"Eleanor," Jasper said tenderly, pushing himself off the doorframe and making his way to her. She looked so self-conscious. He wanted to fix that.

"Don't 'Eleanor' me, Jasper," she said, trying to resist the hug he was pulling her into. "It's not as if we've exactly confessed our deepest hopes and dreams to each other. For all I know, this week was enough for you and you're ready to fly back to Vegas!"

"Eleanor!" Jasper said again — but this time, he said it sternly. "Is that what you really think?"

Eleanor bit her lip and looked up at him with watery eyes. She recalled their exchange from that night one week ago: _"You realize I have trust issues, yes?" "I'll never forget it. As long as I live."_ Deep down, she wanted to believe it. Desperately so. And yet, there was that tiny seed of doubt. She couldn't help it. No one had ever wanted just her.

Jasper took her lack of verbal reply as a yes. He sighed and pushed one of her stray hairs behind her ear.

"Princess, one week with you will NEVER be enough," he said. "And," he added for good measure, "I have no desire to ever return to Las Vegas."

"So what DO you want?" Eleanor asked.

"To be with you," Jasper replied, like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

"Then why wouldn't you want to be my bodyguard?"

"I was actually just giving you shit," Jasper said, waggling his eyebrows at her in an attempt to break the tension. "But besides, aren't personal relationships between the royal family and staff… discouraged?"

"Well yes, but…" Eleanor paused and furrowed her brow. "I don't want anyone else guarding my body." What she didn't voice — because Jasper would never let her live it down — was that more than wanting him guarding her body, she wanted him in her bed and her home. No more of this sneaking around. And as she wasn't ready for a live-in boyfriend just yet, having him as her bodyguard was the perfect solution.

"I suppose I don't want that, either," Jasper said. What _he_ didn't voice — because it would send Eleanor running for the hills — was that he did want someone else standing guard so that he could let down _his_ guard and just be with Eleanor. But having just gotten her back, he knew better than to push his luck.

"Okay, then," Eleanor said. "It's settled. You will be my bodyguard again. We'll talk to James today."

"If you insist, princess," Jasper said, feigning a bow so that he could lean in and kiss her. Eleanor, however, swatted him away.

"No! The last time you did that, we spent another five hours in bed," she scolded. "Mum and James will have my head if I'm not back in that palace posthaste."

Jasper merely rolled his eyes at her, then fished his keys out from their hiding spot in his bookshelf. "C'mon then, let's go," he said jingling the keys and slapping her butt as he walked past her.

* * *

Back at Blenheim Palace, Helena and Liam were smiling smugly at one of the TVs in the security headquarters. Well, Helena was smiling smugly; Liam looked grimly amused.

"I knew she'd go to him!" Helena said. "I knew that picture would bring them together!"

"Oy, she's going to kill me," Liam muttered. "Or rather, she's going to kill my driver."

"I believe she only threatened to dismember the poor gent," James called from the back of the room. He had been unceremoniously pushed from his spot in front of the TVs when Helena and Liam had barged in after Eleanor had failed to show for breakfast… or materialize in her own room. The breakfast absence was one thing, but a tidy room with no sign of being slept in? That had piqued Helena's curiosity, and she had promptly grilled Liam about his twin's whereabouts. Liam put up a valiant fight, but eventually caved and admitted that everything Helena needed to know was likely caught on tape.

"Though on second thought," James continued, still addressing Liam, "she's been threatening to kill you for years. Might I suggest hiring a second bodyguard?"

"Are you always this _funny_ , Mr. Hill?" Liam asked.

"I've been told from time to time that I am amusing, yes," he replied, stone-faced.

"Oh, look," Helena interrupted. She had turned away from the monitor replaying Eleanor's nightly escape and was pointing to the TV connected to the security cameras trained on one of the far edges of the palace grounds. "It appears that our fugitive lovers have returned."

And indeed, the footage was grainy, but there was no disputing what it was showing: Jasper helping Eleanor climb out of a sports car, and the two of them making their way to an unmarked tree that doubled as a secret entry to the palace tunnels.

"They're sneaking in," Liam observed.

"I say we don't let them get away with it," Helena said, her eyes glinting conspiratorially. "Let's surprise them at the other end of the tunnels."

"Give 'em hell, Bond, Q," James chuckled as the queen and her son quite literally ran out of his office.

Helena and Liam's timing couldn't have been better: they made it to the palace-side entrance to the tunnels just as Eleanor emerged, cheeks flushed and Jasper's hand in hers.

"Mother! Liam!" Eleanor exclaimed, dropping Jasper's hand as if it were poisoned. "What are you doing here?"

"Why, waiting for you, darling," Helena replied. "Jasper, it was so good of you to get her back before noon. I trust you kept an eye out for paparazzi when you drove her back?"

"Y-yes, your majesty," Jasper responded, unnerved by the queen's seeming omniscience. All Eleanor could do was gape at the scene unfolding before her.

Liam laughed. "Relax, Jasper!" he said, clapping the bodyguard on his shoulder. "You're not in trouble. In fact, if I understand it correctly, you're on your way to becoming family!"

If it were possible for Eleanor's jaw to detach and hit the floor, it would have. But she quickly recovered and turned on her twin.

"If killing you wouldn't put ME in direct line for the throne," she growled, "YOU would be a dead man right now."

"I love you too, Lenny," he said, blowing her an air kiss. Eleanor flipped him off in response.

"Ooookay princess, I think we should be on our way," Jasper cut in, grabbing her hand before her middle finger turned into a fist. "Your majesty, your highness, it was good to see you again."

"It's been a pleasure," Helena purred. Eleanor glowered, but allowed Jasper to pull her down the hallway and through the portrait room.

"I'm going to kill them," she finally said.

"No you're not," Jasper said, rolling his eyes and nudging her to keep walking.

They managed to make their way to James' office without any further incident, though Rachel had, in passing, given them a curiously appreciative nod. Eleanor made a mental note to check D-Throned coverage to see what aspect of her personal life was currently gracing the site's homepage.

"Mr. Hill," Eleanor announced as she strode into the office without knocking. "I'm here to do you a favor."

"And what favor might that be?" James said, looking up from a stack of papers and quirking his eyebrow at her. To his credit, he looked neither surprised nor smug to see Jasper standing at her heel.

"I found myself a new bodyguard. Well, old bodyguard, technically, but a new one for the James Hill era of palace security," Eleanor said.

"I see," he said. "I should have known that one day you'd replace me with a younger model."

"You do amuse me, Mr. Hill," Eleanor smiled. "But you and I both know that you cannot do this job while also protecting me. It's too much."

"While you have a point, her highness must also know that relationships between the royal family and staff are not allowed," James said.

"Ugh, why do people use that word?" Eleanor grumbled.

"Because it's true?" Jasper muttered.

"You're not helping your case," Eleanor shot back.

"No, your chiseled-jawed protector is right to be honest," James said, cutting in. "Everyone knows what this is, including the two of you, so there's no use hiding it."

"So Jasper can't be my bodyguard?"

"Not indefinitely, no," James said. "But let's say that he can for the interregnum of the James Hill Era."

"Which means what, exactly?"

"Until we find a suitable full-time bodyguard, Jasper Frost can be your detail."

"Who is 'we'?" Jasper asked. Much as he wanted to just _be_ with Eleanor, the idea of some random idiot guarding her life made his blood boil.

"The three of us," James responded, surprising the couple. "What, do you think I actually believe the pair of you won't immediately dismiss anyone you do not deem worthy?"

Eleanor pretended to be offended; Jasper merely shrugged.

"Good, then. This is settled. Jasper, you'll officially re-start as Eleanor's bodyguard tomorrow," James said. "We'll begin searching for your replacement shortly thereafter."

"Excellent," Jasper replied, reaching past Eleanor to shake James' hand.

"Officially, I need to remind you both to keep it professional," James said, straightening his back and attempting to sound serious.

"And unofficially?" Eleanor smirked, remembering how she had used these words during one of their very first exchanges.

"Unofficially, I'm happy as hell you two finally got your act together."

"Thank you, James," Eleanor said, trying to convey a full range of emotions with just those three words. He nodded, letting her know that her nonverbal message was received.

With that, Jasper and Eleanor left James' office and made their way to Eleanor's room. As he normally did, Jasper walked just behind Eleanor — which meant that he didn't see the grin on her face, and nor could she see the very similar grin on his.

"Ugh, I'm exhausted," Eleanor declared as she collapsed on her bed, leaving Jasper to shut the doors behind him.

"You're exhausted? You got to doze in the car ride over here," Jasper said, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his jacket.

He bent over to place his things on a chair by her coffee table when something on the table caught his eye. It was an article that had been torn out of the print version of D-Throned; on closer inspection, Jasper could see that it was the article with the picture of the two of them leaving the King's Cup. His first instinct was to laugh: the image of Eleanor tracking down the paper and then cutting out the picture was just too much. But then, he was hit with an overwhelming wave of affection; this might have been the most conventionally 'sweet' thing Eleanor had ever done.

"Oh princess," Jasper said, holding up the picture. "What's this?"

Eleanor propped herself up on her elbows to take a look at what he was holding. She briefly considered lying and saying that Rachel put it there, but then opted for the truth. "Don't be coy, Jasper, you know what that is."

"Okay, you're right, I do. So the better question is, why did you cut it out of the paper?"

"Because I like it?" Eleanor said, her cheeks turning red.

"I think," Jasper said, sliding onto the bed beside her, "because you like me. And you like our relationship."

"It's not —" Eleanor started to protest, but then realized that she had nothing to protest. She was sleeping with Jasper. He was sleeping with her. It had made her miserable to be apart from him, and every moment that they could spend together, they were spending together. "Okay, yes, fine, it is a relationship," she said, rolling her eyes. "And I do happen to like it. I should have my head checked, but yes, I like it. And you. Happy?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," he said, leaning in to kiss her. "Very."


End file.
